


Breakeven

by ManiacalGastropod



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Broken Hearts, Car Accidents, Self-Harm, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2014-12-07
Packaged: 2018-02-28 13:01:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2733485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ManiacalGastropod/pseuds/ManiacalGastropod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your daughter is delicate. Your daughter is beautiful. Your daughter is amazing. Why can you only see these things, but she can't?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breakeven

Your daughter is delicate. Your daughter is beautiful. Your daughter is amazing. Why can you only see these things, but she can't?

It all started when your brother had his first child. He refused to call it his son. He wanted to go along with the family tradition. You were there when you heard that precious little child's first word, "Bro." You swear, that was the first time you saw your brother smile like he meant it. 

That eventually gave you the courage to have your own child. The bond between Dave and his brother was amazing, you wanted to have that just with your baby girl.

You named her after your own mother. Roxy. She had the prettiest rose-colored eyes. A light pink shade that you will forever remember and hold dear in your heart. You remember when she smiled brightly at the smallest things, giggled at the sight of flowers and wizards. You wanted to make her a happy child, you wanted her to be loved. 

At age 1, you finally let her and Dirk spend time together. They'd play with blocks, she'd laugh. He'd sit there, smiling. Why couldn't she remember those times?

At age 6, they were both in first grade. At a play they both starred in, you took pictures of them acting. Romeo and Juliet. A child version. Dirk got the part of Romeo, while Roxy got the part of Juliet. She was blushing madly the entire time, and at that time, you started to understand the true feelings she actually had for her cousin. It was wrong, but she truly felt more for him. While she smiled, he kept a straight face; acting the part out like it was simple. Like he could be through this, like your daughter was nothing more than a partner in the play. You thought too much of it at the time.

At age 11, Roxy finally met her true best friend. Jane.   
You remember her father. He was very old, probably in his late 40s. His other son was practically around your age. He must've had him when he was young. Her father was not very much around for Jane, just her older brother. They both had buck-tooth grins, it made your pure black lips crook up into a polite smile. Your daughter looked up at you after watching them together. As he spun Jane around in his arms, Roxy looked at you like she wanted to do the same.

By now, you really wish you would have.

Jane and Roxy, fair: they talked a lot at school, were never close like Roxy and Dirk. 

At age 14, you saw your daughter cry. You watched as her heart crumbled. You stood outside her school, waiting for her, while her heart was practically crushed under its own weight. While she watched her cousin, the one she so desperately loved, hold hands with another boy. You witnessed while tears started to fill her eyes while she watched Dirk kiss his cheek, and while the other leaned in for a kiss. 

She lied limp in your arms, crying until her breaths sounded like she was about to collapse and die. Her sobs were uncontrollably loud, she had never cried like this before. You remember what it was like to have your heart broken.

She didn't talk to Dirk for a long time. She barely talked to anyone. Your brother asked you about it. You told him she's suffering and it was his son's fault. You should've put it more delicately, because your brother wouldn't let his son see her at all after that.

At age 15, you saw the impossible happen. You remember watching your mother drink. Why was your daughter so much like your mother? Tears filled your eyes as you watched her drink down a whole bottle of whiskey, crying at the thought of love. It wasn't you though who got to hold her that time. It was Jane.

You were thankful then she was happy after that. Soon, you saw the love she had in her beautiful eyes that you could only notice when she was around Dirk. Did this mean?

Jane.

The accident happened. She came home drunk, slurring on words. "M-Mom, I is-," she puked, "fine," she collapsed. You helped her, cleaned her up, and let her sleep. That was the first time you cried in a while. She's not okay. She is not okay. 

The morning after she cried again. She put it simply, love hurts. Her lips chapped, and puffed, you knew she tried to make it happen with Jane. You could only imagine the worse happened. 

At age 17, you couldn't find your razor. You couldn't find any of the pencil sharpeners. Until, you looked in the drawer of your daughter's desk. 

Dried blood coated the sharp edges, and mew covered your mouth with wide eyes. You revoked her shaving privileges, her pencil sharpening privileges; she had to use a mechanical. 

Your heart was already shattered too.

"Mom?" She whispered. You didn't want to look up. "Mom, answer me!" 

Granted now, you wish you were a better mother.

"You don't care about me! You never did! You wouldn't have let any of this happen!"

You couldn't say anything to that. She threw an empty vodka bottle, it smashed right next to your head, and her sobs could be heard as she slammed the front door, leaving the house.

Age 18. That night was her birthday. Her birthday present: her death. You got the call. Car accident.

"Mom?" She mumbled beside her hospital bed, her eyes barely open and her breathing very slow. You didn't notice the tears that coated your cheeks at that moment. Only the daughter you failed to love and raise properly lying in front of you, saying her last words.

"Yes, baby?" You managed to get out in choked sobs.

"I'm-.... I'm sorry for being a mistake."

Did she really think that?

You shook your head, "No, Roxy, no-.."

"I love you, mommy. I'm sorry." Those were her last words. Why do you cry harder when you think of them now than you do when you heard them then?

To this day, you can't be around your brother or his son. You can't look at a perfect child. It only reminds you of the one you loved so much.

**Author's Note:**

> Wowee this was actually the saddest thing I've written in a while :///  
> Anyway, leave kudos if mew liked it maybe? Thank mew if mew read through it all c:


End file.
